The Lighthouse
by marble eyes
Summary: It's 2016 and Ste's life's a mess: his drug rehabilitation program isn't going well, his relationship with JP is on the rocks and he can't stop himself from feeling broken inside. That's until he starts to receive mysterious pictures of a lighthouse in Dublin that hint perhaps he isn't as alone as he first thought.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a baby of an idea that was conceived in Dublin. If anyone's interested, Electric Violinist will be writing a companion piece to this written from Brendan's POV. We once again felt like collaborating in an extremely complicated way again :p This fic will be purely from Ste's POV, I hope you enjoy it :)**

The first time a post card like picture came from the letterbox, Ste knew nothing about it. In fact at the time he had been sitting in a circle talking about his drug problem to a room full of strangers. It was part of his rehab and something his Dad and Sam had insisted he did. Ste tried not to roll his eyes at certain points and find the most miserable stories funny, but some of them really were. A lot of people in the circle of trust (he was forced to take part in twice a week) were full of stories, stories that involved long drug filled nights that left them waking up in the most obscure places.

Ste didn't have a drug problem, he just had an unhealthy relationship with escapism. It wasn't his fault the white powder he'd sniffed through his nose had given him a one way ticket out of this hell hole, a delicious train journey into oblivion. It also wasn't his fault that everyone either betrayed or left him, it just seemed to keep happening. And if the drugs helped him with that, what was the problem?

'So Steven.' said the group leader, his name was Simon or something.

'Ste' Ste automatically corrected him.

'Ste,' said the man, the frustration on his face beginning to show. 'Do you want to share with the group today?'

Ste looked down at his hands 'No.'

'And why's that?' asked Simon. 'None of the people here will judge you, you know?'

'No one wants to hear about my life.' said Ste, even Ste didn't want to hear about his own life.

'That's not true.' said Simon. 'We're a listening forum for each others' problems. A problem shared is a problem halved.'

Ste let out a snort at the crap expression, probably straight off a plaque or something. 'Well maybe I don't want to.'

'Well if he doesn't, then I will.' said a male member of the group rudely. He was the member of the group who loved the sound of his own voice.

'No one wants to hear about your problems Mark.' said a small girl in the corner. 'None of us care about your overbearing mother, the fact your girlfriend left you for another woman or that your shirt looks as if it has had a years worth of ketchup over it.'

'Stacy!' said Simon the group leader.

'It's true.' said Stacy rudely. 'If Ste doesn't want to share his problems, why should he? I find it quite refreshing he doesn't whinge about everything like the rest of us.'

Simon looked frustrated. 'It's part of the therapy and drug rehabilitation.'

'Sitting in a circle of pathetic losers and talking about his problems is really going to make him stop sniffing the good stuff up his nose?' said Stacy rudely. 'If you think that, then you're more idiotic than you look.'

Ste stood up and grabbed his bag, causing the two to stop their argument. 'You know what, I'm going to do one. You lot are doing my head in.'

It only took him a minute to storm out the building and walk straight out into a cool summer's day. Ste didn't even know why he bothered. Sure he'd seen the pictures of what drugs could do to your nose, sure he was on a path to self destruction...but why did it matter? He had nothing left to lose now, he had lost everything.

The second picture was again taken away before it even got near to Ste again. He'd woken up late and stretched out for John Paul, only to notice his boyfriend was no longer in the bed next to him. He had got up to make breakfast and had found John Paul in his kitchen, the other man had jumped a little as Ste entered.

'Alright?' asked Ste, putting a hand over his mouth as he yawned.

'Yeah,' said John Paul, shifting something quickly into the back pocket of his jeans.

Ste's eyes caught the quick movement. 'What's that?' he asked.

'Just a bill.' replied John Paul.

Ste nodded and reached into the cupboard to get a box of cereal. He didn't find his boyfriend's behaviour weird in any way, John Paul had his life and Ste had his. They worked, they seemed to love each other...that was all he needed, right? He felt the familiar urge for drugs wash over him and suppressed it.

The third, fourth and fifth time the pictures came and Ste was still left unaware of their existence. John Paul's careful hands had yet again intercepted the pictures and made them disappear within seconds. It was only on the sixth picture that John Paul cleared his throat during lunch one day that Ste finally became aware of their existence.

'How's the support group going?' asked John Paul nervously.

Ste put down his sandwich, John Paul never usually wanted to know about his support group. 'Okay.'

'Listen there's something I need to tell you, but I don't want you to freak out or think it changes things between the two of us.' said John Paul.

Ste's hand immediately touched his empty pocket, an automatic reflex he'd had ever since taking drugs. He used to keep the drugs there like a security blanket. A quick fix if anything went wrong.

'You've slept with my Dad again, haven't you?' Ste said calmly. He could handle this, he could sit here and listen to John Paul tell him that he had once again cheated. Each time John Paul did it, it got a little easier to handle.

John Paul looked hurt. 'I wouldn't do that to you again.'

'You've done it to me more times than I can remember.' said Ste defensively.

'Well you were busy, with your drugs.' said John Paul.

'And that makes it okay?' asked Ste accusingly.

'No,' said John Paul softly, 'but I can't keep apologising for something I can't change now.'

'What ever,' said Ste. Sometimes he wondered why he stayed with the other man, they had been friends at the start and close through their shared experiences...but lately it had all become one big mess. Ste was finding it harder and harder to care. But John Paul was all he really had left, everyone else was gone.

'I called Craig the other day.' stated John Paul.

Ste's mouth fell open, John Paul never usually even mentioned the other man's name. Ste was beginning to think anything John Paul did wouldn't surprise him any more, but this was new. Why had he called Craig, the previous love of his life? They were ancient history, why mention him now?

'I...we have been getting pictures through the post, pictures of a lighthouse in Dublin.' said John Paul finally. 'I thought...I thought they were from Craig, but they're not.'

Ste looked down at the table, trying to absorb the information. 'What did he say?' he asked coldly.

John Paul shifted awkwardly. 'I...he...he has split up with his girlfriend, he realised that they didn't fit. That it didn't feel right being with a woman.'

'Okay.' said Ste numbly. He tried to feel any emotion to what he was hearing, but found there was none there. He was numb before, during and after the drug days. At one time in his life he would have flew into a jealous rage if any of his previous boyfriends had made contact with an ex. But now the emotion wasn't there, nothing was there.

John Paul looked frustrated. 'Is okay all you can say?'

'What do you want me to say?' asked Ste, staring hard at the table.

John Paul ran his hands through his hair. 'Anything Ste, anything to show that you care and it's not just me in this relationship any more. I want you to scream or shout, anything that shows me that you aren't as dead inside as you've been acting.'

'I can't do that.' said Ste numbly. 'Don't you think you gave up your rights to demand things from me when you screwed my Dad?'

John Paul let out a long sigh. 'Do you even love me Ste?'

'I don't know,' said Ste refusing to look at the other man, the only thing he did know was that he wanted the white powder that would make everything go away.

'That isn't good enough.' said John Paul, he let out a sigh and then placed a number of pictures on to the table in front of Ste. 'Do you know this place?'

Ste looked down, he forced himself not to gasp when he noticed a pile of photos; all of them showing the same familiar red lighthouse. He knew that lighthouse, he'd know that lighthouse anywhere.

'You do, don't you?' John Paul let out a bitter laugh. 'All these weeks I thought Craig was trying to send me a message, when in fact it has been a message for you.'

Ste tentatively reached out and touched the photos. 'Nobody knows I live here.'

John Paul rolled his eyes. 'Well someone must. They've obviously from Brendan.'

Ste flinched at the name, ignoring the number of emotions that broke through the wall of ice each time Brenda's name was said out loud by anyone. 'He's in prison. He isn't going to get out for years, Cheryl told me he got life.' He desperately needed this conversation to be over, before he fell apart again.

'Well who else could it be?' asked John Paul.

Ste shrugged. 'I don't know, maybe someone's got the wrong address.'

'Maybe someone's got the wrong address, are you for real Ste?' asked John Paul, failing to hide the frustration in his voice.

'I don't see what the problem is over a load of random pictures of a lighthouse.' stated Ste.

'It is too much of a coincidence to mean nothing.' said John Paul.

Ste picked up his sandwich and began to eat it like nothing had happened. He didn't even spare a look at the pile of pictures.

'I can't do this any more.' said John Paul, his eyes were full of tears.

Ste tried his hardest to find the right words, but none came to mind. He knew what was coming and he didn't care. He even wondered if John Paul's tears were just for show.

'I've tried so hard Ste, but this isn't working. We're better as friends, I can't compete with the ghost of Brendan or the ghost of Doug any more.' said John Paul. 'I don't want to be second best, I deserve better.'

Ste rolled his eyes. 'Thought you weren't going to give up on me.'

'I'm not.' replied John Paul.

Ste let out a bitter laugh. 'Get out.'

John Paul looked confused. 'I live here Ste.'

'I said get out,' Ste almost shouted. 'Go sleep with my Dad or sob down the phone to that Craig, I don't care what you do as long as you do one!'

'Ste,' said John Paul.

'Do one!' shouted Ste.

After that day when John Paul had hastily packed his bag and left, Ste was alone once again. He didn't care, he didn't need anyone but himself and the drugs. He brought a bag of cocaine the next day and kept it in the back of his cupboard in an empty cereal box. He didn't use it, he just needed to know it was there and ready for when he needed it.

John Paul's exit out of his life didn't make much difference to it, other than the flat was now quieter and his bed was colder at nights. But he found the quiet oddly comforting and the cold at least made him feel something. The only thing different in his life was the steady flow of pictures of a familiar red lighthouse through his letter box each day. Ste couldn't help but stare at each one individually throughout the day. The pictures gave no clue to their true origin, other than his address scrawled in unfamiliar writing and a date on the back. No picture of the lighthouse was the same, they were either taken from a different angle or showing different weather.

Each time Ste touched one of the pictures he felt something inside himself thaw, a spark of life that had long since fled from his body. The pictures took him back in time to a person who he didn't know any more, a person who hadn't lost everything and wasn't as broken. Ste mourned for that person every single day. It was like a time machine taking him back to one of the best moments of his life: that freezing cold walkway with Brendan by his side and endless possibilities of their happy ending ahead.

Four weeks later the pictures were still coming and Ste finally lost his temper and tore all them all to pieces. It gave him an odd satisfaction as he watched the pieces fall to the ground like snow. Afterwards breathing heavily he pulled the cereal box containing his cocaine out of the cupboard, ready to take a long sniff that would draw him back into oblivion. He stopped just as he was about to open a bag, noticing one picture that he had missed. Ste shoved the drugs back into the cereal box and instead grabbed made a grab for the photo. For the first time in months as he looked at it, he let himself cry.

His Dad Danny found him sat on the floor clutching it half an hour later, surrounded by a mess of tiny bits of photo paper. His expression was grim.

'Have you taken anything?' asked Danny.

'No,' replied Ste.

'Tell me the truth Steven.' said Danny.

'Nothing.' shouted Ste.

Danny stepped over to the wall Ste was sitting against and slid down it, so they were sitting side by side. 'How did it get to this? What's so bad about the world that has led to my beautiful son becoming this broken?'

Ste shrugged, he didn't have an answer to that question.

'I'm worried about you.' said Danny softly, his eyes full of emotion. 'I'm scared one day Sam is going to come round to my flat and say they've found your body.'

'Wouldn't that be a relief to everyone?' said Ste bitterly. 'I wouldn't cause any of you any trouble any more.'

Danny pressed his lips together in a thin line. 'Don't ever say that.'

Ste tried to ignore the tears that were falling from his eyes. 'It's true.'

'No it's not,' said Danny softly. He finally noticed the picture Ste was holding. 'John Paul came round the other day, said that he was worried that you weren't coping.'

'Did he say that before or after you slept together?' asked Ste.

'Neither. Me and John Paul don't do that any more.' answered Danny. 'He said that he thinks those pictures are from your old lover, Brendan or something.'

Ste flinched at the name. 'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Maybe it's time you did.' said Danny.

'No,' said Ste firmly, staring at the kitchen floor. It was filthy, when had it become so dirty? When he'd owned the Deli with Doug, the deli kitchen was never dirty.

'Just answer me one question, did this Brendan make you happy?' said Danny, his expression lost.

Ste wiped a tear from his dirty face, allowing himself a moment of truth. 'Happier than I ever thought it was possible to be.' he said in a broken voice.

Danny looked sad for a moment. 'Go take a shower son.' he said softly.

Ste mechanically got up and the picture slipped from his fingers, he didn't pick it up. He stood under the hot stream of water, wondering when his Dad would leave. When Danny left he was going to get a bottle of Vodka and have the drugs that were hiding in the cereal box. By the time he returned from his shower, Danny was standing in his kitchen with a bag at his feet.

'I ain't going to live with you again!' exclaimed Ste, automatically assuming that was what the bag was for.

Danny gave him a half-smile. 'I know that.'

'Then why have you put my stuff in that bag then?' asked Ste.

Danny handed a piece of paper.

Ste glanced at it. 'What's this?'

'A plane ticket to Dublin.' answered Danny. 'I've booked you a taxi, your flight leaves in three hours.'

Ste glared at him. 'Have you finally lost it? I ain't going to Dublin.'

'Yes you are.' said Danny forcefully.

'No, I ain't.'

Danny shoved the latest picture of the familiar red lighthouse into Ste's face. 'If there's a chance this is from that Brendan man then you need to go. I've tried everything to fix you Ste, but I'm out of ideas. You go around like a ghost, a ticking time bomb in which I'm terrified at any moment will fall off the drugs wagon or explode. None of us can fix you, but maybe he can. I know it sounds mad, but if there's even a chance that those pictures are from him and he can help you then you need to do this. I can't bury my own son!'

Ste grabbed the picture back from Danny. He stared at it, every part of him feeling more broken than ever. 'I can't do this, I'm scared. What if it's not him? What if it's someone's idea of a sick joke? I can't go through that.' he wiped away a few stray tears. 'I'm not the same man he knew.'

Danny picked up Ste's bag from the floor. 'You don't have to go through anything Ste or be anyone you aren't, you just have allow yourself hope again.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much to everyone for your reviews and amazing response! I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. Elec and I have created a little website of our time in Dublin, so please feel free to take a look if you're bored at some point. Enjoy! **

Ste couldn't sit still on his flight to Dublin. He kept shifting and gripping nervously on to the magazine in his lap, his knuckles going white with the pressure. With each little bump of the plane he closes his eyes and tries not to think of the white powder sitting in the cupboard at home. He had wanted to sniff it, let it consume him but his Dad had watched his every move. So now, somehow he is sat on an uncomfortable chair on a cheap flight with no drugs in sight; basically because by some random chance Brendan might be somewhere in Ireland waiting for him. And they said the drugs were the things that made him do stupid things!

'Are you okay?'

Ste opened his eyes and for the first time he notices a woman sitting next to him. She's got a weathered face, like that tree out of that Disney film his Leah likes.

'Yeah.' replied Ste, trying to show her in his body language that he is in no mood to talk.

'You look a bit wound up.' she says, looking at him with understanding eyes. 'I can't blame you, I'm desperate for a cigarette. Are you a smoker like me?'

'No,' answers Ste, looking out of the window and trying to give her the hint that he doesn't want to talk.

'A drinker?' she asks.

'No.' says Ste, refusing to look at her.

'No devilish vices then?'

Ste finally turns and looks her directly in the eye. 'Just the drug addiction.'

'Oh.' she answers, seemingly finally speechless. His words finally having the desired effect.

Ste can't help but feel smug as he turns away from her. He pulls his hood over his head and closes his eyes. That should stop her from trying to cosy up to him.

'Sometimes things fall apart so better things can fall together.'

Ste's eyes fly open. 'Are you quoting the Bible at me now? Because God's pretty much written me off.' The woman is looking at him again, almost as if she can see right inside his soul. It makes him even more uncomfortable, why can't she just leave him alone?

'It's a quote by Marilyn Monroe.' she states, her lips twisting with amusement. 'But don't think he's forgotten about you, what you're looking for is just around the corner if you're just willing to look for it.'

Ste looks behind him. 'I can't see anything.' he says rudely.

'No,' she replies, 'but you will.'

Ste snorts, holding back the stream of rude comebacks that come to mind. Instead he turns away and leans his head against the side of his chair, facing away from the woman and ending any further attempts at conversation.

Ste hears her softly say something just as he is falling to sleep:

'You'll find him soon, just be patient.'

A little while later he is rudely shaken awake by an air hostess, the plane is practically empty and the woman who had sat next to him is gone. He quickly grabs his bag from the overhead compartment, rushing forward out of the plane and down the steps. When he finally clears security Ste realises he has no idea what to do next.

A familiar figure catches his eye among the crowds of people in arrivals; brown hair and a swish of a leather coat. Ste feels his heart miss a beat and all the air leave his lungs. For a moment he stands staring; unable to breathe or move, he is frozen. His eyes are fixed on the man ahead, weaving in and out of the crowds. He steps forward with a name on his lips and instantly feels the pain of something/one colliding into him hard.

'Watch it!' shouts an angry nasal voice.

Ste tears his eyes away from the man who is now fast disappearing into the crowd and finally notices the little man who has barged into him. His face holds the expression of someone who has smelt something bad. This makes Ste angry, very angry.

'Why don't you watch it?' he replies rudely.

'You were the one wandering around with you head in the clouds.' the man states, his small eyes narrowing at Ste.

'Well you should have watched where you were going!' says Ste, glaring.

'I shouldn't have to, you should have been paying attention on where you were walking.'

'Who do you think you are?' replies Ste. 'Because all I see is some sad little bloke who thinks he's king of the airport or something. I can't see any crown.'

'Better than being some stupid dirty Chav.' snarled the man. He steps forward and feebly pushes Ste.

Ste pushes him back even harder. Finally the man shows a flicker of fear in his eyes and his body seems to deflate.

'You ain't worth it.' says the man.

Ste clutches the bag he's holding even closer to his chest, 'No I ain't.' he says sadly, turning and walking away from the man. The old him would have stayed and to fight the man or at least given him a verbal dressing down, but that was a different Ste from a different lifetime. This Ste just wants to go to the airport toilets and sniff as much powder as his nose can take. That would make it all better.

He boards a coach bound for Dublin before he can change his mind. As he settles down in his chair Ste takes a deep breath and counts to ten just as his therapist told him to. As he gets to ten he glances out the window and notices the old woman from the plane staring up at him from the pavement, she winks at him before throwing down her cigarette and disappearing back inside the airport. Ste thinks he's going mad. On the drugs he saw a lot of strange things; but at the minute he's one hundred percent clean and already he's been haunted by Brendan and some old woman.

Ste takes the coach to the stop after the Ha'Penny Bridge. He doesn't look at the bridge, he doesn't dare. Looking at the bridge is asking for trouble, it's asking his mind to unlock all the beautiful memories of Brendan he has fought so hard to forget. He can't do that, because once he starts only the drugs will save him from the pain of the memories and the emptiness inside of him. The bridge is sacred, magical even and Ste doesn't want that to change (even if he doesn't believe in magic any more).

His feet automatically take him to the Hotel he stayed in with Brendan all those years ago. Ste treads the ghost footsteps of a different him, a him that still had the ability to hope. He walks up to the front desk not knowing what to expect and stands there hovering for a minute.

'Are you okay Sir?' asks a young woman at the reception desk, she looks nervous.

Ste looks down at himself and can understand why. He's wearing a crinkled track suit and his hair is still un-brushed from the shower he'd taken earlier. 'Is Brendan Brady staying here?' he asks before he can stop himself.

The woman frowns for a moment, but begins to type the name into the computer. 'Sorry Sir, we have no-one staying here under that name. Are you okay?'

Ste finally lets out the breath he was holding. 'Yeah.' he manages to whisper.

'Were you wanting a room?' she asks.

Ste bites his lip, slipping his hand into the pocket containing the money his Dad gave him. 'Is room twenty available?'

The woman again types on her keyboard. 'Yes.' she says smiling.

'Can I have that one?' Ste quickly pulls out the money in his pocket to let her know he's serious.

Ten minutes later he's stepping into the lift from a few years ago. Again he stares into the mirror, but this time he doesn't like what he sees. His skin is pale and sickly looking and there are dark circles under his eyes. Drugs have done this to him.

'Who are you?' he asks his reflection and receives no answer. He looks away just as he notices the tears beginning to form.

Ste steps into room twenty and can't but gasp at how little it has changed. He sits tentatively on the bed staring at the bathroom door, almost as if he expect Brendan to come out of it any minute. His fingers reach out and stroke one of the pillows on Brendan's side of the bed. Almost three years ago Brendan was here, Brendan had lived and been free. If only he could reach into the past and bring him here now. Maybe then he could stop making such a mess of things.

The sound of his mobile ringing causes Ste to snap out of his dream-like state. He pulls his mobile out of his pocket and lets out a groan as he notices John Paul's name on the caller ID.

'What?' he answers rudely.

'How are you Ste?' asks John Paul.

'Why do you care?' replies Ste.

John Paul let out a long sigh. 'Don't be like this. You know why.'

Ste held the phone away from his ear and pulled a face at it. 'No I don't, in fact I don't know why we even got together in the first place. I was the one who playing second best, second best to my own Dad.'

'I'm not arguing about this Ste.' stated John Paul. 'I only called to check you landed safely.'

'Why do you care?' asked Ste.

'Because I love you.' said John Paul quietly

Ste bites his lip for a moment, before he suddenly realizes something. 'How do you know I'm in Dublin?'

Silence is all that greets Ste from John Paul's side of the line.

'My Dad is the only one who knew. Are you with him? Are you with him right now?' asked Ste, his voice getting louder and louder.

'I came over to talk to you, I wanted to make things right. But you weren't here and Danny was Ste, you've got to understand that we didn't mean it to happen. One minute we were talking and the next we were falling into bed together. I regret it, but it doesn't mean a thing. We can still make it work.'

Ste gripped the phone hard. 'Three hours, I was gone three hours! And you two, you two slept together in my bed? Are you for real? You better bloody get rid of any trace of what you did out of my flat, or when I get home I'm going to burn the place to the ground...and with any luck the two of you will be inside of it.'

Ste angry stabs the end call button with his finger and throws his phone hard against the bedroom wall. It hits it with a loud crunch and Ste doesn't bother going over there to check if it's broken, he already knows the answer. A broken phone for a broken man.

With a flurry of movement Ste grabs his key card and storms out of his hotel room. He takes the stairs down to the ground floor and completely ignores the receptionist as she cheerfully greets him. It's almost a relief as the cold Dublin evening air hits him, it reminds him he's still alive and still hanging on by a thread. Not for long though. He walks aimlessly through busy streets, not quite sure where he's going, but knowing anywhere is better than a hotel room full of memories on his own.

'Any spare change?' asks a voice.

Ste reached into his pocket and feels around for the crisp guilt notes his Dad had given him. He suddenly knows exactly what to do with them. Ste bent down and pressed a ten euro note into the man's hand.

The man looks at him with hesitation for a moment, searching Ste's face for any sign of deception.

'I need you to take me to someone who can give me some...' Ste whispers the last word and presses the note into the man's hand.

'Make it twenty and it's a deal.' the man replies.

An hour later Ste is back in his hotel room, this time with a friend in a little plastic bag. He feels calmer now he has it, he can take it at any time and escape. He almost sniffs it in the bathroom, but can't bring himself to ruin the memories of what happened in this room with drugs. Ste instead curls up and sleeps with the bag under his pillow like a teddy bear.

He wakes up in the morning and automatically reaches out for a man who isn't there. Ste has never felt so alone. He dresses quickly and shoves his little plastic bag into his pocket. The woman at the front desk doesn't take long to order him a taxi and after five minutes describing where he wants to go the taxi driver knows exactly where to take him.

After a twenty minute journey, he hands the taxi driver a big wad of his Dad's money and leaves the taxi for a car park lit by the bright morning sunshine. It only takes him a minute to find what he's looking for. It looks different, although everything in the world is different now. The lighthouse still stands at the end of a long walk way, a contrasting red to the beautiful blue ocean. It takes Ste's breath away and makes his heart beat rapidly.

For a few minutes he stares at it, almost as if waiting for something to happen. Nothing does. Last time he was here the sea was grey and it was freezing cold, this time the sun is out and it is a warm day. The place hasn't lost its magic, but Brendan isn't here. Ste walks along the walk way as if by some chance he's wrong, but he and a few fishermen are the only ones on it.

Ste sits down by the ocean next to the steps where he and Brendan had sat together all those years ago feeling like the only two people in the world. He isn't sure what to do next. Ste clutches the bag in his pocket like a lifetime. It's time to go home. He was stupid coming here, it was stupid to even think Brendan could even be here. He brushes away a few stray tears from his cheeks.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' he mutters.

'Are you okay?'

Ste almost jumps in shock. As he looks around he finally notices a head bobbing in the water. There's a man in the water by the steps.

'Fine.' answers Ste. 'Alright me, just talking to myself. First sign of madness and all that' He laughs awkwardly and tries to ignore thoughts about how good a fix would feel right now.

'You don't look fine.' says the swimmer.

'I was meant to be meeting someone, but they're not here.' says Ste, wondering why a small part of him had ever thought any different. He turns away from the man, wanting to put as much distance as possible between the two of them.

'That's odd, because that's what someone else has just...'

Ste doesn't hear the rest of what he has to say, he doesn't want to. He begins the long walk back through the nature reserve back to the nearest town, not really paying attention to his surroundings. He just needs some cover, a place to be alone with his little bag of powder and loose himself. Ste reaches the village without quite knowing how he got there. He heads into the first bar he sees and slips past the barman into the toilets.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he locks himself into a stall. Tears begin to fall from his eyes and he doesn't care. Ste pulls out the bag in his pocket, getting ready for the sweet taste of oblivion. He begins to pull it open with his fingers until a loud groan startles him.

'Oh God!' cries a male voice in the stall next to him.

Ste is caught so off guard that the bag flies out of his hand and into the toilet.

'Please more.' the same voice cries again.

Ste feels his cheeks going red, he needs to escape right now. He glances woefully down into the toilet bowl, in which the powder is already soaked into the water. Today isn't his day.

'Yes, yes!'

Ste quickly shoves toilet roll down the toilet to cover up the plastic bag and then escapes from his stall out towards the bathroom door. At the door he hesitates and for a moment. He glances back towards the stalls and catches a sight of one of the two men through a gap in the door. His head is thrown back with pleasure and he is now groaning even louder. Ste turned away and finally slips out the door back towards the bar, not realizing Brendan Brady is one of the men in that toilet stall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed my last chapter and Elec's. I hope you enjoy this one! x**

Ste was high. Ste was as high as a kite. He hadn't meant to get high, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. His Dad had called a few times and he'd ignored it, but he did like the pretty colours his phone made each time it lit up. Ste had tried to stay clean he really had, but clean was boring. What was the point of being clean when nothing was right in his life? Not when you could be high, without a trouble in the world.

It had all happened so quickly, one minute he'd been wandering around the town lost and the next he was sitting outside a bar. It had only taken an hour for a man to appear next to him. It was like the man could see/sense who he was, what he was...he had told Ste he had a solution to fix his tears and that solution was in a little plastic bag. Ste briefly wondered if he had a big sign over his head saying 'drug addict', it seemed the drug dealer from the bar seemed to think so. He'd brought the drugs quickly from the man, along with a bottle of vodka and some crisps from a local shop. It hadn't taken long for him to take the drugs down some dirty alley way; it was a relief to do it, almost as if he was coming home. Ste had forgotten how much the drugs relaxed him and made everything in the world seem okay again. His whole body was tingling.

He sat on the side of the road giggling into his packet of crisps, trying to ignore the stares from passers-by. Let them stare, see if he cared. Ste licked his fingers slowly, trying to ignore the fact he now had ten fingers on one hand. Where had his thumbs gone?

'Look,' he said to himself, moving his hand around and watching it getting even more blurry.

A man passing by frowned at him 'What the hell are you on kid?' he asked rudely.

Ste let out a loud laugh at his question. 'Fresh air.' he took a long swig of the vodka bottle at the side of him.

'Don't you think you've had enough?' asked the man.

Ste raised an eyebrow at him. 'It ain't ever enough.' he screwed up the packet of crisps in his hand, then tipped it upside down so that the small pieces fell out. 'Look, snow.'

'I ain't got time for this.' replied the man

'I've got all night.' said Ste, he picked up the dirty crisp pieces from the ground and threw it at the man.

'Freak.' said the man, he finally got the message and walked away.

Ste looked down at his phone and was once again fascinated as his Dad's name flashed up on the screen. He finally hit the answer button, bored with his own company.

'Ste,' said Danny frantically, 'I've been so worried, you haven't been answering your phone.'

He lay back onto the pavement, staring at the sky that was now beginning to fill with clouds. 'On a scale of one to ten right, how shit do you think John Paul is in bed?'

Danny took a deep breath. 'Steven.'

Ste giggled at the use of his full name. 'Steven, Steven, Steven...that's not what John Paul has been saying in bed, is it? Bit awkward us being father and son, innit? Does he get mixed up? Better keep my Lucas away from John Paul when he's old enough, he likes his full family sets.'

'That's not fair.' said Danny.

'Well life ain't, I've got to tell you something any way.' said Ste, he sat up and tried to ignore the way the world was spinning. 'I've met someone.'

'Met who?' asked Danny, sounding almost hopeful.

'The cure for all my problems.' said Ste. 'He's called Mr Cocaine.' he immediately hit the end call button. Ste lay there on the pavement for a minute and then began to laugh. Maybe his Dad would finally understand what it was like when someone was taken away from him now.

'What are you doing Ste?' asked a familiar voice. Someone was standing in front of Ste, blocking the last light of the fading sun.

Ste knew that voice anywhere, he grabbed his vodka bottle and shakily got to his feet. 'Piss off Doug.'

This happened sometimes when he was on the drugs. He'd see people, he'd hear people. But they weren't there, they were never there. The person standing over him he'd know anywhere and they were meant to be dead. Maybe his counsellor had been right about the cocaine.

'Don't walk away from me.' said the same voice.

'I ain't got time for you.' muttered Ste. 'Haven't you got some coffee machine somewhere to haunt or something?'

'You need to come off the drugs.'

'Not listening.' said Ste to the air. He put his head down, ignoring the looks people passing by were giving him. 'Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer.' he said rudely to one woman.

'There's no reason to be rude.' said Doug following him.

'There's no need to be rude.' mimicked Ste in a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes. 'Why don't you go back to haunting some French bakery or something? Ain't you got better things to do with your time than bother some druggie?'

'I died for you Ste.' said Doug, looking almost smug. 'And this is what you do with that gift.'

'Bit of a waste of time, that.' said Ste. 'I ain't really done much since then, bar share John Paul with my Dad like a cheap bottle of beer and get high a lot. Both leave a proper bad taste in your mouth.'

Doug frowned at him, that annoying disapproving look that Ste couldn't stand. 'You're not being fair Ste, you've never really loved John Paul.'

Ste scowled at him. 'How do you know?'

'Because he's not Brendan.' said Doug bitterly. 'How can the rest of us compare to him, you never let us.'

Ste shakily began to walk away from Doug, ignoring the fact that the sky seemed to be turning a different number of colours. 'Well he ain't here either. So do you reckon it's my fault John Paul can't keep his hands off my Dad? Nice that.'

'You know what I'm trying to say, you've never loved the rest of us like you loved him.' said Doug.

'Change the record will you.' said Ste, wandering away from the town and back towards the road that lead to the lighthouse. 'You come back to haunt me and all you do is spend your time moaning and crying about Brendan. It's like you never left.'

'I'm trying to help you.' whined Doug.

'Well don't bother, yeah?' said Ste, 'And you didn't die for me, you just got in the way of a falling ceiling.'

'What are you going to do Ste?' asked Doug, 'Keep taking the drugs and kill yourself eventually?'

Ste threw his now empty vodka bottle right at Doug, it passed straight through him. It hit the ground hard and smashed into pieces. 'Yeah, why not? I've got nothing left now. Why don't you do us all a favour ghost Doug and do one.'

Doug shook his head at Ste. 'I'm just trying to help you.'

'Well I'll make sure to call for you, when I need some help making a sandwich.' said Ste. .

'You'll regret this.' he shouted as Ste began to walk away.

'Go bake a pie or something.' said Ste, he darted into the road and heard the familiar screech of tires and car horns. He waved his hands about and carried on walking, ignoring the shouts and abuse being directed at him.

Ste let out a sigh of relief and twirled around a sign that directed you through into the entrance of the nature reserve. He looked back towards the road and was relieved that the ghost of his ex-husband was now gone. Ste did an overdramatic wave at the spot where Doug had been and then continued walking, whistling happily to himself. What ever was in the bag he'd sniffed wasn't quite right. He'd seen Doug before and even Brendan, but they'd never spoken to him.

A woman walking her dog smiled at Ste, but the smile soon turned into a grimace when she noticed how high he was. The dog began to bark loudly at him, funnily enough Ste could understand exactly what the dog was saying.

'He wants his ball back.' Ste said to the woman. 'Woof, woof...means he wants his ball.'

The woman began to walk faster.

'It's obvious, innit?' Ste shouted after her, but she was already disappearing further up the path. 'Silly cow.'

Ste continued up the path, giggling in relief as he finally got to the small sandy beach that was at the beginning of the path that lead to the lighthouse. He threw himself down into the soft sand and let out a long sigh. He lay there for a while looking at his hands and reaching up into the sky. Ste briefly wondered what it would be like to be a bird, to be free to fly away from it all. He flapped his arms and for a moment he was floating, well in his mind he was any way.

He felt his eyes closing and when he finally opened them again the sun was gone and it was almost dark. The sky was void of stars, but full of rain clouds. A single drop of rain dripped down onto Ste's face. He closed his eyes and then opened them again, letting out a long groan. His head was aching and he was still slightly high and drunk.

Ste held out his tongue as more rain drops began to fall from the sky. The rain tasted salty and for a moment Ste remembered he was alive, remembered there was still a heart beating away in his chest. He shakily reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his left over stash. It only took a minute for it to be gone and inside of him. Ste finally felt he could breathe again, the world was clearer and easier to cope with. Yes he had let himself down, his kids down and his family down, but in a few minutes it wouldn't matter again. Ste was going to end it all now, he'd be able to see Brendan again in hell.

He picked himself up from the beach and shook the sand off him, there was no-one around to see him now. Ste tried to stop his body from shivering, but once again he seemed to have no control over it. He began to walk shaky steps, determined to reach the lighthouse. One step, two steps, a leap into the air and off he floated. Three steps, four steps...why was the world spinning again? He started to run as he noticed creatures hiding behind the fence to the power plant and in the bushes. Hundreds of yellow eyes seemed to be watching him, waiting in anticipation to take him away from this world.

Ste finally reached the path to the lighthouse, it was dark now and the ocean was grey. It seemed the entire path was empty, he was now the only one here. He began to walk along the cobbles, ignoring the mermaids and fish he kept seeing swim past him in the water. It wasn't real, it was just the drugs.

He finally reached the middle of the walkway, only to discover he wasn't alone. There was a man sitting by the familiar steps him and Brendan had sat by years before. Ste let out an annoyed sigh, as the rain began to beat down on him. Couldn't he even die in peace now? The man finally turned and with a jolt Ste realised he wasn't a stranger, it was Brendan. They stared at each other for a moment, neither daring to move. Ste couldn't tear himself away from the haunted blue eyes that had captured him.

'Great, first Doug and now you.' said Ste, sighing. This was all he needed, a ghost version of Brendan! He shakily sat down next to Brendan, for a moment he swayed towards the edge but strong arms reached out to catch him.

'Steven,' said Brendan breathlessly.

Ste looked down at Brendan's hands and noticed they were pouring with bright red blood that was mingling with the rain. 'Go on then,' said Ste, 'Moan at me like he did.'

Brendan's face scrunched together in confusion, he finally released Ste's shoulders.

'That's why you're here, isn't it? To tell me where I'm going wrong in my life.'

'Steven,' said Brendan softly, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Ste reached out and picked up the bottle of whisky sitting next to Brendan, he took a long sip. Strangely the liquid felt real in his mouth and even burnt a little. 'This stuff is still proper rank even when it's not real. You know you can't really lecture me, we all know where you ended up.'

'Are you real?' asked Brendan breathlessly.

'About as real as you are.' said Ste. 'Got to say, not really liking the beard.' he reached out and touched it. 'Ew.'

Brendan's blue eyes looked at him with both concern and confusion. 'What happened to you?' he reached out and gently touched Ste's cheek.

A giggle escaped Ste. 'My flat went boom and Doug went splat. Then the kids got taken away and then I got with John Paul, who liked my Dad just a little bit too much. Shouldn't you know that, with you being a ghost or whatever you are?'

'You're never normally this real or here this long.' said Brendan.

'Neither are you.' said Ste. 'Must be a good batch.' He stood up and looked down into the water, shivering as the rain soaked through his clothes. 'I'm glad you're here, it feels right it being just me and you at the end.'

'What are you talking about Steven?' asked Brendan.

Ste bent down and brushed his lips softly against Brendan's. They felt warm and Ste's heart flooded with warmth as he pulled away. 'In the next life Brendan' he whispered softly, before he launched himself off the side of the walkway and into the icy waves.


End file.
